


Alive and whole isn't required

by CassielWhorechester



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Murder, Necrophilia, Oneshot, Other, Short, mentions of self pleasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:36:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4292742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassielWhorechester/pseuds/CassielWhorechester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't need to be alive or whole he just needed to be....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive and whole isn't required

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my creative writing class and figured I'd post it here. This isn't part of any fandom and these characters are my own. Enjoy.

I climb the stairs and miss your smile. The way your lips curve up in an asymmetrical slope, all pink and full like a summer peach, so sweet. I crawl into bed, the soft satin making me miss your eyes. So wide and so shiny, a soft brown like dirt after a gentle rain, framed by thin eyelashes. As I fall asleep I miss the sound of your voice calling out to me, shouting my name again and again. So much energy, so much passion. The thought makes my blood race and a slight sweat to break out across my neck as my hands travel downwards and slip under my panties. I fall out of bed the next morning and miss your arms, wishing they were there to catch me. I brush my teeth and miss your lips, want to feel them brushing against the curve of my neck, wanting to feel the ghosting of your breath over my skin. I clean myself up, the loofah all sudsy and rough against my stomach, the feeling reminding me of the rough burliness of your legs. I get dressed and miss your toes. It surprises me, missing this odd part of your body, wishing I could see them curling up in bed, crinkling up the bed sheets with passion. I make our bed and miss your fingers trailing along my spine, tempting me to mess up all of my hard work, pretend to be a teenager and play hooky. Sighing, I walk down the stairs and find myself missing the pale expanse of your smooth throat, gently running my teeth over the bob of your Adam's apple. My feet make a loud sound on the transition of carpet into kitchen tile as I open up the fridge and grin, my lips stretching from ear to ear. I don’t have to miss you anymore because you’re right where I left you. Packed away into clear plastic Tupperware, your blood and flesh pushing at the small containers. I picked up a decent sized one, the one that holds my favorite piece of you, the piece that I had been so careful not to damage as I cut you up. Opening the lid I peek at this not so small appendage, licking my lips and make a decision. I would play hooky, and share one more special moment with you under the covers. You didn’t need to be alive or whole to give me pleasure.


End file.
